


Acrylic

by SmolOne



Series: Death Games [1]
Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Dark, Fantasy, Future, Gen, Gore, Original Character(s), Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-17 20:22:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5884210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmolOne/pseuds/SmolOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all games are very fun, especially these ones. These games, known as The Acrylic Games, are deadly. A small acrylic gemstone in sewn into the skin of your arm, right near your shoulder, and you must collect ten of your own color in order to be able to go to the King of the games and offer them. Perhaps he’ll simply take the gemstones from you and tell you to do it again, perhaps he’ll keep you in his palace for the good job you did and protect you, but you aren’t getting out, no one can escape. How do you earn these gemstones, how do you get them? Simple; murder. Rip them out of people's arms, it’s as simple as that, it’s very easy if you think about it. Of course, it would be easy for criminals to do that. But, not everyone sent there is actually a criminal by normal standards, oh no, dictatorships have much different standards. Such as children of protesters must be punished too, and overflowing orphans must be sent there too. It isn’t going to be easy for those people, not at all.<br/>When a young boy, of barely age twelve, is sent to these games with his ‘sister’ due to an overflux in orphanage, they’re about to realize just how messed up their government is, and just how powerful the veil of ignorance really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Opening of a Play

They say that they were sure the world was ending when the stars disappeared from the night sky. They didn’t really disappear, though it is true many had long since burnt out and only the light remained, but that at night, many bomber airplanes flew across the heavens and almost seemed to block out every last star in the night sky, as though a drape had been pulled over the window that was the sky. But, others will say no, that it had start to diterate when the war first started, the day when China first dropped bombs upon the east coast of The United States, the day when the last world war finally broke out. It was the USA, the UK, and Canada against China, Russia, and Korea. Yes, Korea, as South Korea had eventually been hydrogen bombed nearly right off the map, then two months later taken over by the North. The world is mess, really, it’s disgusting yet almost enticing at the same time. 

It all started when the year of 2200 strutted on in, the year when it was reported that many freshwater rivers had been tainted by pollution, at least a third of rain forest had been demolished, and many species that possed ivory had been slaughtered. In some places, smog had gotten so bad that the cities were constantly on high alert for air pollution and restricted some air flights, and more than 5% of the world's farming land had been tarnished as well. 

But, people are ignorant to their own problems, right?  
It only got worse. 

The year of 2280 rolls in with its tettering self, and natural fuel sources are barely available anymore, drilling had gotten too expensive and it was getting harder and harder to drill that deep down into the earth without inertia deciding to play some nasty tricks on senseless workers. Wind and solar power can only do so much at this point, little solution is offered, pollution continues to rise. After all, it’s not just oil that’s a problem; it’s humanity that is.

Then, the year 2290 limps on in like the bruised dog it is, and the world is ransacked into war. China starts it, after all, they’re furious that those ‘Stealing Americans’ have yet to repay their debts, which had risen to 3.4 trillion, as the US had attempted to try to borrow from other countries, rather than digging deeper and deeper in debt to China, but that idea had failed within a couple of decades and the borrowing of the oriental powerhouse sprung up once more. 

People try to be okay, if they ignore it, it doesn’t effect them. If they ignore it, it doesn’t matter, right? Right. 

But, people who never learn from history, are bound to repeat it. And so, during 2292, Japan manages to snag a good portion of Korea after the US bombed some of it’s ports, and at that point Japan then withdrew into a period of isolation, just as has been done times before. Canada is starting to lose troops, it may have a bright military, but this war is taking a lot out of people. Hope can only carry one so far, the fuel of it is deplenishing quickly.

Then, the year of 2295 strikes on it, and the airs are covered by dark planes for many weeks and months. Then, as the leaves turn brown and the earth begins to die in the month of September, the UK falls after London is bombed and Buckingham Palace collapses in on itself, killing the current queen, Queen Elizabeth XI is crushed under the debris, throwing the country into utter chaos. She had been a lovely lady, more importantly, a somewhat young one and had been pregnant with her first child when killed, leaving no direct heir to the throne. Of course, there were others possible, such as siblings or cousins or something along that line, but the country quickly turned to martial law as things were sorted out.

It wasn’t much longer after that, actually it was in the start of November, when the US took its last stand. The economy had already been failing due to a heavy increase of military spending to fuel this war, and the people had taken many bruises as well, so it wasn’t a total surprise when the large nation collapsed in on itself. 

But, that wasn’t the end of the story. Do stories ever really end? Perhaps some do, but the story of life must go on, new actors and actresses added to the play and new scenes being added, dialogue being written and masks being made.

In the following year, when 2296 comes dashing on in, China has once more regained most of the counties in the oriental, and now Russia has basically become indirect territory of it, and the Russian powerhouse will too be cast out as soon as it runs out of manpower. After all, weeds just die and feed the garden the same either way. 

The rest of it falls like history usually does, so let us pull away from that and focus on a sole place, yes? 

2300 is the and The First Second, aka US, has been turned into a bloody dictatorship by a man named Frederic I, and things are lovely! Hardly any crime transpires anymore, the government is fair and hard working, and everyone is happy. Isn’t it happy? 

Though, truth be told, happiness is a dirty mirror, very tainted indeed. Which side is the reflection, which side isn’t the tainted one? Perhaps it’s the better side that’s fake, faker than a piece of acrylic, wouldn’t you say? The other side of this mirror, isn’t so happy, maybe that’s the real image, and the happy one is the liar.

Crimes don’t happen anymore because those who do commit, are sent off and away, the government is fair because people who don’t agree, are sent off and away, and everyone is happy because, well...need it be said again? Though, one must wonder where these people get sent off to, it’s not like they could just disappear, they must be going off somewhere.

And they do go somewhere, they go to The Acrylic Games, doesn’t that sound like a ball? Really, it isn’t, but the government doesn’t care as long as you and your little problematic self are taken right out of their utopia and put where you can’t cause harm anymore. A tiny stone is sewn into the flesh by their shoulder, only on one arm of course, and that becomes a life line. It’s rather painful to get ripped out, clearly, and it isn’t easy to get a new one sewn on in there either, it’s a rather nasty job is what it is. 

But, one must wonder, what is the point of this game, why would the government make such an awful game? Well, it’s not as though the dictator originally intended for it to become this large game in this ruined city, but some crazies decided to take things a wee bit too far, that’s the story at least. But, anywho, it’s all in good fun, really. Collect ten gems of your color and you may approach the king, perhaps he’ll simply take them from you, giggle in glee, and send you off to do it again. Perhaps he’ll invite you to join his court and you’ll get a fiege sense of protection, really, no one knows. Many would rather kill the king and take over the destroyed city, since power is power after all, than just give up the fake little gems. 

But, more on that another time, for the time is not nigh. But, then what is the time? The opening ceremony is over, the curtain has fallen so that the props may be changed up and the scenery may be set, the actors are scurrying to fix their outfits and touch up their make up, the audience is waiting. 

Thus, with that, let the play begin.


	2. The Curtain Call

Pawns must be set in place in order for chess to begin, the actors must be ready to perform before the act may start. 

A ragged train chugged along a worn down, beaten track that snaked through the rough, unsightly terrain. The sides of it were beaten slightly and it did have more than a few smudges of dirt along the grey exterior, it wasn’t exactly a beacon of beauty, that’s for sure. Many of the white plastic seats that lined the interior were cracked, and in those cracks were quite a bit of dirt, and the ones that weren’t cracked, were most likely soon to meet the same fate either way. But, that was alright, the fighting had only just ended a small while ago, clearly things weren’t going to be okay yet, right? Right.

Taking a look at the people who filled the seats, it was a rather odd assortment. But, that’s just life; an odd assortment that gets grouped together into a mushy ball. The focus won’t be on most people in the train, we’ll just ignore the other grimmy people who might have interesting stories, we’ll just be ignorant of them for the time being, they don’t matter too much, after all. Most people, quite honestly, don’t matter. Does that seem like an odd thing to say? Perhaps, though it be true, you most likely don’t care about most people you pass on your course of life, so don’t try to act like a pure being that ‘would never’ ignore another person, you filthy liar.

Anywho, back to the main point. Yes, upon two white plastic white chairs, the one closer to the dented wall was cracked right down the middle, were two children. The one sitting in the more broken chair, was a young lady of who had perhaps just entered teenhood, a flower in the course of bloomage. She had skin that one might describe as olive, lovely in such a natural state, a handful of freckles were sprinkled across her nose and upper cheeks, like a sesame bun. Her hair was the color of dirt, but not wet dirt, perhaps dirt that hadn’t been given a sip of water in over a week or so, perhaps it could also be described as a sort of darker shade of mocha, or a cocoa bean, her skin was rather lovely to look upon, really. The eyes this young lady had were about as green as could be, sharp as a jagged blade and deep as a small swamp, quite lovely to look at. Next to her was a young male, who didn’t look much older than she, and he didn’t look very much, if at all, like her. His hair was the color of a starless sky, of the feather of a raven. His skin was as pale as a doll, colorless as though he had never been graced by the beauty of the sun. Lastly, his eyes were rather wide, the type of a small child might come to own in their youth of innocence, and were the color of light blue crystals that shone like waves in the sunlight. 

Now, why would two little children be sitting in such a place? Quite mind boggling, really, considering where the train was going, a quick paced moving dirty coffin, that might be a better description of the vehicle. Where was it going? Well, in the words of the wiser; Hell. Many people on the train knew where the metal death machine was taking them, though if one were to perhaps anthropomorphize this vehicle, it would turn back around and save all the people inside. Hah, how amusing that would be.

Now then, as to why the young children were sitting upon those seats...well…

“Are we there yet, sister?” Came a small voice, soft in the way the fur of a lamb is, quiet as a butterfly in the spring breeze as it flaps its little wings. Where did the little voice come from? The young boy, as may or may not be expected. Ah, but why call the female beside him sister? Clearly, they nay be from the same mother, nor the same father either. 

“No, Deviant, we are not there yet.” The reply came forward, from the leaf eyed girl, who then glanced over at the boy, whom was apparently named Deviant. Her voice was strong, not hard as one might expect, though perhaps more like a mother, a mother who wanted to protect her children. She seemed to study his pale face for a moment, then narrowing her eyes for a couple of seconds, “You have something on your face, again.” Before then wetting her thumb a bit and reaching forward, wiping at a small dust smudge on his left cheek, a tad bit under his eye.

The raven boy didn’t really respond verbally to that once it had happened, though a small blush did dust his cheeks, naturally. “A-Ah...thank you, Sasha.” The young boy managed to stutter out, the blush only getting a little brighter after he had stumbled over such a simple word, so silly of the little child to make such an easy mistake in his own tongue. 

However, this small moment of sibling like love was rather short lived, fleeting as quickly as it had come, like the laughters of summer and the cool of winter. For, a somewhat stout old man had stood up, his back having haunched over somewhat from the burden of time pressing upon his now frail spine, the old man even had a small walking stick that was promptly being gripped onto by his right hand, most likely to keep gravity from sucking him right down to Hell before the scythe of death could instead. But, why had this old, wrinkled paper like, white tuffed old man stood up?

“E-Excuse me, guard...I have always been prone to motion sickness, might I be able to step into the back of the train for just a moment?” The old man asked in a withered old voice, time and life having worn it down to bits, like wind does to sand. The guard whom had been spoken to, a strapping young man who stood by the door, his long gun cross over his chest with a tight grip upon it. “That is not permitted, Sir. I will allow you to come stand over here for a few minutes and rest, but then you must return to your seat at once, Sir.” The man spoke, his voice firm and hard, the winds of life would have to push rather hard to break that one down.

The old gentleman gave a small smile, his eyes twinkling in the way that an old, dying star might do so, “Thank you, you are very kind.” He spoke, then taking a couple of shaking steps towards where the guard was, the old man was only a few seats away from where the door was, so it wasn’t too much of a struggle for him to move up there. The two children from earlier were watching the scene, though Sasha had reached over and grabbed Deviant’s hand at some point, as though the intuition within in her was acting up and making it so that she acted more protective.

Life is pretty funny, it’s a tad like a roller coaster, ups and downs, going from sweet and fun to horrifying and scary in a matter of moments. After all, a few moments is a rather long amount of time, isn’t it? Thus, the couple of seconds it took for the old man to walk up past the seats, honestly felt like a very long time, or perhaps it only felt that way after it happened. After the elder reached past the last seat, he began to hobble on over to where the guard was, moving past the young man to stand on the other side of the door. That was when the roller coaster decided to have a couple of bumps, when the sweet went a little tart. It all happened so quickly, as though it were not even happening in the first place. 

The old man suddenly grabbed ahold of the stick with both hands and turned, swinging it right at the head of the uniformed man. But, that would only prove to be an awful, awful idea. The male simply turned his gun around and used the butt of it to smack him right in the side of the head, a cracking noise moving across the train car, like a wave of flowers upon the actors and actresses of a play. At that moment, Sasha had chosen to move her other hand over Deviant’s eyes, before then looking away, moving a tad closer to the young boy beside her, feeling him grip her hand a little tighter with his slightly smaller one.

The faint scent of blood had already begun to wafer through the unforgiving air, but it did not last long, as the guard simply heafed up the man, aftering having strapped the gun to his back for the moment. Clearly, the old man was still alive, though whether or not he was awake after that blow and crack to the skull, one would have to wonder about that. With an emotionless look upon his face, or one might say facade instead, he pushed a button and the door shuttered open, it’s not as though the train was going that, that fast, so it wasn’t too much of a problem to be opening the door open. 

Without even bothering to glance around to make sure no children were watching, the guard held the man out and promptly dropped him out the door, before then taking a quick step back and pressing the button again. What? No one wanted a dead body to smell up the train car, and no one would even miss that old man anyways.

Not even a moment later, however, a rather loud cracking noise once more split the hair and the ear as it rang through the car. Most people didn’t physically react, after all, the old man had most likely just been run over, his spine split into two, not that big of a deal. Right? People couldn’t care, they couldn’t afford to do so. Most didn’t react again as some blood splattered upon the window, though the young lady Sasha did physically flinch. Ah, if only she had more than two hands, perhaps she could have protected the young ears of her brother? Maybe not, but the ifs of life were always so interesting to think about.

And so, like men of sword and birds of flight, the train simply chugged on its way, leaving behind the estranged body of the broken and most likely dead old man, just another body, another soul to add to the count. Besides, who really even cares? You don’t, you know you don’t, filthy lying leaches who claim they care, but really, people are so ignorant, claiming to snip the bud before it grows, but ultimately instead growing into the thorns they so desperately claim not to be. Laughable, really. 

With the curtain call done and the train moving forward, Sasha removed her hand from Deviant’s face and let out a small sigh, still keeping a hand upon his, attempting to calm herself. He too was doing the same, he may not have seen, but his ears still worked either way, so he heard pretty much everything that had happened. It was upsetting such small children had to go through this, but they are bad, bad little children, and bad little children must be punished for their sins, the virtues they let turn to vice so easily. But, that’s another deed to be told for another time, surely. 

Now, with the actors in place with the actresses all frilled up, the curtain call done and make up finished, the play may begin. After all, everyone is waiting, aren’t they? Heh, ignorant people waiting for more ignorance to be thrown their way, how ironic and lovely indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading so far, I hope you all like it!


	3. Let the Show Begin

Fear makes people do things, that at times, are not the best option. It’s quite silly, really, people don’t know how to think properly at times, it’s as though they had forgotten how to at all. The pumping of the blood, the racing of the heart, one would think that in the midst of the internal, bodily chaos, the mind would attempt to take control and be able to try make things calm. But, alas, it only adds to the chaos, scaring us even further off of the edge of safety. 

 

After that old man had been crushed beneath the wheels of death, things on the train car seemed quite silent, as though even the air itself was too fearful to take a breath. Hush, hush, if we do not speak at all, then the big bad Devil cannot find us, he will not rip us from the grips of life and smash us down into the pits of Tartarus. But, even silence cannot save us, for bad things will continue to power through and happen either way, sweeping innocents and guilties up in their grasp and squeezing the power out of us.

But, what does this have to do with fear? Everything. Fear does the same thing, paralyzes us, rips us from our little bubbles and thrashes us down into terror and nightmareland. Fear is our enemy, it is the essence that is the land of the enemy, the exact reason why we, at times, can only survive and not thrive. 

Though, that is another topic of another time, another story of another life, another debate that will and has been had, a taboo subject that we secretly embrace. Now, then, what does fear have to do with our story here, the one we have spun, the one that may soon be not just a story?

 

As the young duo crawled closer to their destination, the train chugging along without a care in the world, one more incident had happened. It should’ve been expected, why wouldn’t it happen? It was expected to have happened at some point, though not this late into the train ride. 

A middle aged looking woman had gotten up to go and use the bathroom, which was in the back of the large car. Feebly moving, she walked down the aisle like a bride at a funeral, she was a rather pretty thing. Long brown, wavy hair that went down to her mid back, young eyes of beautiful ocean blue, nice clothing. One who looks and does not see would ever notice the slight bags under her eyes, the greying of her roots from premature stress, how her hands were already starting to wrinkle a little, the slumping of her shoulders. Perhaps she had been a mother, a caring mother who was now forcefully ripped from her kids, tossed into one hellish night after the next of fear and worry. 

No one ever would have suspected what she was going to do once she got into the bathroom, not at all. As she got to the bathroom, she opened the door to the single female bathroom, and slowly walked inside, letting out a small, quiet sigh and plopping her bag onto the floor. Silent as a dove in the night, she slowly made her way to the toilet and just plopped down, then reached into her bag and dug around a little, what could she be looking for in there? There was a small gleam from the bathroom lights upon whatever it was she pulled out, a small, weak smile now taking root upon her tired and worrisome looking features. 

 

About twenty minute later, exactly one thousand two hundred seconds later, Sasha got up to use the bathroom as well, unaware that the lady had yet to come out. She had been too busy dealing with Deviant, who had been rather rattled by the whole event, but had eventually fallen into a fitful sleep on the seat. What else could she do? She was no doctor, no therapist, not even an adult who could deal with something like this. So, she’d just have to do what she could, and hope that just the comfort she could give would be enough for the boy.

Carefully walking down the aisle, but she was no bride here, she was a bridesmaid. She would bear witness, witness to the adjoining of two souls, one having just emerged from her prime, and another that had been spinning and taking since the dawn first came and the sun rose. As quiet as a church mouse in the spring, she stepped towards the door and opened it up, casting a look over her shoulder as she then walked in, closing the door behind her, before then turning to look over at the toilet.

What she saw, made her blood turn arctic and her heart nearly stop within its tracks. 

There, the lady was, slumped on the toilet, a mask of pure ecstasy embroidered on her face, though under it, was probably a persona of great tragedy. The gleaming item had fallen out from her limp hands, having clattered onto the floor, it was a small cooking blade, coated in the substance of life. If one were to travel down her slightly aged face, down to her neck, they would see the damage that had been done to her throat. It was sliced open like a ripe fruit, the juices inside filtering out like juice from the jug. It was clear she had done this to herself, and had waited for it to bleed out. Fear had done this, and would strike others in similar fashions, just as long as the fear got away and stayed away, people did not care how it was disposed of. 

The girl would’ve taken a step back, after all, Sasha had not come in here and expected to find a dead body sitting right on the porcelain throne, if she had been a few years younger than she was now, she probably would have wet herself as well, the poor thing. However, the olive skinned girl did not scream, she did not shout for help, she did not break like a beaver dam and begin to spill tears. No, she had to be strong, she had to be the adult, she was the adult now. So, she had to ensure her own survival and safety, along with Deviant’s. What would they think if security busted in there and saw this? They’d think she had done it, that’s what.

Letting out a shaky sigh, she stepped closer and snatched the purse from the floor, hefting it up onto her shoulder, there had to be some cash in there or something of value, not like the older female would need it where she was going. Sasha then glanced at the knife upon the floor and snatched that up too, creeping over to the faucet and turning it on, being as quiet as she could, as though she was scared the body might jump up and strangle her for touching the items. Washing the blood from the knife, then drying it with a small hand towel, she then quickly shoved that into the purse, starting to head for the door.

But, something compelled her to take one last look at the woman, so she did, staring at her face. The older had probably had a life, kids even, would the kids ever even find out that their mom had sliced open her own throat? So, she traced her steps back a bit and then took a step over to the possible mom, and reached out, shutting the eyes of the dead softly, before then pulling back and fleeing the bathroom, that was all she could do for her. Nothing more, nothing less, just let her eyes rest once more and for all eternity. 

As she made her way back to her seat, seeming even more dull now, she took her seat, glad that her boy was still asleep, not wanting him to question why in the world she had a purse on her shoulder, which clearly did not belong to her in the slightest. 

 

It was then that the train came to a screeching halt, causing most people to look over as the train doors banged open, it appeared they had arrived at their destination.

“Everyone, stand and leave the train immediately, anyone left behind will be shot. Once you leave, you must within twenty four hours, key word is must, register within forty eight hours with the King. If you do not do so, you will be found and shot, and don’t think we don’t know you haven’t registered, dogs. Now, move out!” The guard to the side of the door commanded, his voice strong and rough, clearly not playing around here. 

Sasha looked over at Deviant and gave him a small shoulder shake, prompting him to wake up, before then standing and taking his hand, he now being awake, though a tad groggy. No matter. Holding onto his slightly smaller hand, she led him out of there like a lamb, out from the train and into the raining city outside. The final pieces had entered the board, the final actors ready to perform. 

 

And that moment, yes, that one right there, is where the real story begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for continuing to read, I hope I get some comments soon. Thank you once more.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all like my story, I don't know yet what the update schedule will be, but I shall try to update at least once every two weeks? Thank you for reading!


End file.
